


If Your Time to You Is Worth Savin'

by RyoSen



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:58:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyoSen/pseuds/RyoSen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:   "It's four years later, and there are things that are worse, and things that are exactly the same. Where do you start?"  Spoilers through "Holy Night."</p><p>Originally Posted:  6 Jan 2003.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Your Time to You Is Worth Savin'

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. Dammit. 
> 
> Thanks: Jo, Morgan, Meg, and Ria for insightful comments.

That it's been four years is something that hits him at the strangest times.

He still thinks of himself as a pretty young guy, though his face in the mirror is craggier every day and his joints ache now in the damp weather. He still looks at the President and sees Jed, a too smart, too pious, too insecure boy barely twenty. He still looks at Josh and sees a six-year-old boy with a devilish grin, or sometimes a nine-year-old boy with a palpable aura of grief and loneliness.

But he's older and wiser, and Jed's the President, and it's been four years, and it's all the same, except his conscience. That weighs more heavily than it used to. It was easier when he was a wet-behind-the-ears fighter pilot who paid more attention to his ego than his brain. Back then, it wasn't his decision. He had orders, and he followed them. It got to him, bombing villages in that foreign land, no doubt killing innocents who had nothing to do with their government's feud with the United States, but it was never his call, never his decision.

They're not his now, not really. Jed Bartlet is his own man, after all, with a strong moral code. But he's never fought a war. The President looks to Leo on those days, those days that just keep on coming. This isn't war like he remembers, with official troop deployments and lines of demarcation.

This is blurry. It may be more important to the lives of Americans than that long-ago war he flew in, but it's awash in grey. It isn't about ideology and influence on foreign shores, he thinks, but life and liberty on our own. The lines are jagged, though, and always shifting. It's easy to lose your footing, Leo muses, and wind up on the wrong side.

It's almost a new year, and he's struggling with what he's done in this one. Still struggling to ease his guilt, convince his conscience that, even if he's damned himself to hell, it was a handful of lives weighed against countless lives. Countless American lives. He knows he did the right thing; he knows he counseled the President wisely. He reminds himself that Shareef was a bad guy who wanted to kill Americans, any Americans, and there was no other way to stop him.

It's almost enough, most days.

The phone rings. It always rings. Margaret pops in to tell him it's the ambassador to Israel, and she has to go immediately or she'll miss her flight.

"Get out of here," he orders, and takes the call.

And so it starts. The Church of the Nativity, for the love of all that's holy. Two days before Christmas. The Christians of Palestine, and the Christians in Israel are going to be irate. Leo has half a mind to wind Toby up about religious freedom and put him on the phone with Tel Aviv, but Toby's got the Inaugural and a deposition and Sam's replacement.

Sam's replacement.

The words are still bitter on Leo's tongue. Sam is Jed's idealism and Toby's talent wrapped in a cheerful, well-tailored exterior. Leo knows that Sam will be wonderful in the House, but his departure stings all the same.

Josh is thrown by Sam's absence too, and at a terrible time of year for him. Hard to believe, Leo thinks, that Josh's flameout was two years ago. Harder still to believe that Donna is spending that particular anniversary elsewhere.

Oh, Leo never asks to hear the gossip, doesn't even want to hear it. But he learned long ago that Margaret has no off switch, and try as he might to block her voice out, some of it still manages to lodge in his brain. And so he can name all seven of Margaret's siblings, knows that she prefers Ella Fitzgerald to Billie Holiday, can rattle off his assistant's favorite color, state, flower, and mammal, and is aware that Donna's romance with Jack Reese is a subject of interest to the denizens of the West Wing. He blames that last one on Margaret's three-minute soliloquy on the wonders of the Washington Inn.

Leo has far more important things to deal with, though, so he puts Margaret's concerns out of his head and concentrates on his own. Even after Josh's mildly disturbing performance at the photocopier.

Four years, Leo thinks again. He'd hoped the thing with Amy might turn into something despite the fact that she reminded Leo an awful lot of Mandy Hampton. (And look how that had turned out.) He doesn't want to care about this, doesn't really have time to care, because CJ appears in his doorway, tight-lipped and subdued, and he closes the doors without being asked.

"Did you hear the Whiffenpoofs?" CJ tries, but her heart isn't in it.

Leo waves a dismissive hand. "Yeah. Wonderful," he answers, pushing the half-remembered songs from his mind. "What's up?"

"Just a couple items," she answers, holding her folio close to her chest. "The lid's on."

Leo dips his chin. "I saw the briefing."

"Ah," she answers. CJ glances down and brightens momentarily. "Oh. I have a videotape of one of Sam's events. A speech he gave at..." She frowns, squinting at the label. "I don't know. In Orange County somewhere." She lays the tape on Leo's desk and takes one step back. "He did really well. Even better than that last one."

"With the alliteration?" Leo asks.

Smiling, CJ nods, her voice suffused with affection. "Yeah. He's really growing into it."

"He's gonna win," Leo tells her, and he's almost sure he's right.

Her smile softens, grows less amused and more affectionate. "I hope so." She hesitates, then, remembering why she's there.

Leo stifles a sigh, drops the file he's holding on the desk. "What's the problem, CJ?"

"What do you mean?"

He gestures vaguely at the snow outside his window. "You look like someone just told you Santa Claus doesn't exist."

She manages another smile, but this is her pressroom smile. "I saw Santa Claus today, actually. He brought me a gift."

CJ's not one for stalling. Whatever it is, it's not good. "I saw the briefing," he repeats impatiently. "Was there something else?"

CJ composes herself so quickly, Leo wonders if he'd imagined the anger that flitted across her features. "Yes. Danny Concannon's back. He stopped by my office," she continues, a note of forced amusement in her tone, "because he's working on a story. While he was in Bermuda, he met a cricket nut who works at our airstrip. This guy was trying to get his cricket gear from his locker at work on May twenty-second and was turned away by what Danny thinks are Army Rangers." She barely pauses. "I just thought you should know." CJ indicates the door with one hand. "I have--"

"Yeah," Leo interrupts, still processing what she's said. "Go ahead."

It's only after she leaves that he understands how masterfully she played the game. She knows that she can't know, can't have confirmation, and so she told him the story as if it were a ridiculous rumor, too silly for Leo to confirm or deny. But Leo knows her well enough to recognize that look in her eyes. He remembers it far too well from the night he ushered her into his office to tell her that the President has MS. Disappointment, fear, and anger. A potent combination.

Four years ago, CJ could barely control the pressroom, and now she's an incredibly skilled press secretary, willing to sacrifice her own curiosity and bury her own feelings of betrayal to protect the President and the administration. He is as proud of her as he is sad that she's been through enough scandals to hone those particular skills.

He can't worry about that now, can't tell her he's proud of her. First, because he can't acknowledge the true meaning of her little monologue, and second, because he seriously doubts she would care whether he's proud, considering what she knows. What the entire world will know soon enough.

How is he supposed to defend this to the New York Times when he has trouble defending it to himself?

And then there's Josh, telling him that the Church of the Nativity is closed because it's unsafe. Leo is skeptical, cynical, wondering if that's political cover for Israel. They might be trying to avoid bloodshed in the Church of the Nativity on Christmas. It's a valid concern, of course, but it bothers him that the Church is closed on Christmas. He snipes at Josh, misdirected anger, but he doesn't really care.

And then he hears a snippet of _Silent Night_ echoing through the Northwest Lobby, and is enraptured by the simple, peaceful sound. He nearly collides with Donna because he's not looking where he's going.

"Leo," Donna says, touching his arm. "I'm sorry. Are you--"

"Sorry, Donna." Then he frowns. "Why are you still here?"

She looks slightly puzzled, no doubt wondering why he knows of her holiday plans. "The President wants Josh to rewrite the Federal Budget," she says with a sardonic smile, and then she's gone.

Leo hopes she's kidding about the budget, but has a strong suspicion she's not.

When he gets back to his office after a meeting with Fitzwallace, Margaret's there, looking somewhat disheveled. He raises his eyebrows at her, but doesn't comment on her appearance. "Dulles?"

"Yes," she answers. "I figured I might as well come back here. Is Toby's father really a mobster?"

Leo blinks. "Margaret--"

"Fine," she says. "I just wondered how he got past security."

"Josh," Leo answers shortly.

"Ah."

"Yeah, listen, I need you to call Donna and see if she was kidding about the budget."

"The budget?" Margaret asks. "I thought--"

"Margaret, call her, please."

She's concerned about him, he can tell by the look she gives him, but she disappears to do his bidding, leaving him alone with what's bothering him. Well, many things are bothering him, but most of them he can't do anything about.

The Church of the Nativity will probably stay closed, because there are no NGOs available to go in and fix it. Assuming it really is falling down.

CJ has to stay in the dark about Shareef until they're ready to go public, because she may be able to lie to the pressroom with ease, but Leo has a feeling that Danny knows her too well to be fooled. And Danny will definitely be asking some questions.

Leo thinks he'll have to bring Josh into the loop now, though, to start working on a strategy, and he's surprised to find that he's dreading the conversation. He doesn't think he could bear to see disappointment from Josh.

And worst of all, the story of the United States' assassination of the Defense Minister of Qumar will be hitting the papers in a few weeks, and Leo can't see a way to stop it. He probably won't even be able to release enough of the intelligence to satisfy the Republicans on the Hill, who will be foaming at the mouth. He knows, though, after talking to Fitzwallace, that the Joint Chiefs will be out there doing their best to convince the public the action, however brutal, was necessary.

"She wasn't kidding."

Leo starts at the sound of Margaret's voice, then sighs. "Yeah."

The President, no doubt in an effort to assuage his guilt, has given Josh an impossible task. Much like Leo himself has.

"Margaret," he calls, "tell Donna to forget it. I'm going to talk to him."

Margaret nods. "Okay, but she's not going to go until Josh tells her to."

"Tell her--" Leo breaks off, frustrated. "Tell her to come see me, please."

Margaret disappears, and Leo calls over to CJ's office. "Do we know anyone going west?"

Carol hesitates. "I'm sorry?"

"Most of my staff is gone, but there are still some reporters around, right?"

"Leo, there are always some reporters around."

"Are any of them leaving?"

"With any luck."

He explains what he needs and hangs up as Donna appears in his doorway looking uncertain.

"Come in," he greets her, waving her into a chair. "You're going to the Washington?"

She flushes, just a little, and perches on the edge of the chair, hands folded primly in her lap. "Yes. May I ask--"

"Josh told me." He watches her reaction closely, and his suspicions are confirmed. Four years later and they're finally figuring out what the rest of their colleagues have known for years. "The President was on a flight of fancy," he tells Donna, weariness seeping into his tone. "Don't worry about the budget, we're not changing anything. You'd better get out of here."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Donna answers. "I can't get there tonight, so it's no trouble to stay. I'll drive out in the morning."

There's a quick knock, and Carol enters with a slip of paper. "Mark Latrell from CNN -- he was subbing for Wolf -- he and a crew are heading out to the mountains to cover a story," Carol explains, handing Donna the information. "They're leaving in about fifteen minutes, though. Are you ready?"

"She's ready," he answers. He can't prevent most of what's coming, but he can prevent this one thing. "Donna," Leo says after Carol exits. "You need to go to the Washington Inn. Josh will be fine."

The look on her face is telling, but she doesn't answer right away. "Leo, is there a reason why you're suddenly so interested in my holiday plans?"

"No." He's a skilled liar. "Consider this your Christmas present from the White House. Now get out of here."

She studies him for a moment, then nods, her mood subdued. "Okay," she agrees, rising to go. When she reaches the doorway, she turns back to him. "Thank you, Leo."

Leo dips his chin. "Happy holidays."

Her smile is bittersweet. "You too, Leo."

He doesn't like to meddle in the affairs of his staffers, but there are the rare occasions when the political ramifications of their personal lives make it so he has to step in. Sam and Laurie. CJ and Danny. Now Josh and Donna. Leo has the absurd urge to go thank Toby for not being such a pain in the ass, but then, his father the mobster is in the White House and there's a visitor's log, and his ex-wife is pregnant and being sued, and maybe Toby's a pain in the ass after all.

But he has a job to do now. He needs a moment alone with the President to set him down, back him off the HHS budget. Their guilty consciences need to be salved some other way, and it's not going to matter soon. They'll get to confess their sins to the public, to the world, and receive their penance in the op-eds and talk shows.

Right now, though, they need to send their staffers home to their families and seek respite where they can find it, Leo thinks. And he puts Margaret in a car with Bonnie, tells Charlie to go pick Deanna up at school, kicks this Will Bailey out of the West Wing, and plays the role of Confessor for his oldest friend before sending him to Abbey. Leo doesn't know if the President has told his wife about Shareef yet, but suspects it'll be a topic of conversation while they're in Manchester.

Leo feels a little better, a little lighter, as he rifles through the memos on his desk. There's nothing that can't wait two days. Except for Josh, Leo thinks, as he sees his deputy zipping past the door. "Josh!"

Josh doubles back, and Leo explains that he's off the hook, tells him he's sent Donna off to her holiday. Josh responds with a plaintive, "Donna left?"

Leo looks up when the words register, but he's alone in his office. It's only after Josh slips out of Leo's office that Leo understands. This is a time for family, but Adira Lyman is a plane ride away, the airports are closed, and Leo sent the other member of Josh's family away on a helicopter. Oh, and then he dumped the news on Josh without warning. He swears softly, tosses the briefing memos into his briefcase, and leans it against the base of his coat rack.

He can understand Josh's sense of loneliness; Christmas Eve is for Jenny and Mal, always has been a mother-daughter event. Even though they're divorced, Jenny graciously invites him to Christmas Dinner, but Leo never intrudes on Christmas Eve. Despite Jed Bartlet's yearly heartfelt invitations, Leo lets the Bartlet family have this one holiday to themselves, without the presidency intruding. Instead, Leo works late into the night, making sure nothing short of war on their own shores will disturb Jed Bartlet. Until last year, that is, when he had a late dinner and ensuing holiday celebration with Jordan Kendall.

Leo has plans this year, but Josh has only two days of no meetings, no phone calls, and no ever-present assistant.

Leo heads for Josh's office, sees Toby with his father, watching the Whiffenpoofs, and moves on, ordering Ginger to catch a ride with Zach. He makes his way to the Operations bullpen, and just as he suspected, Josh is the only one left. Leo apologizes, sort of, for sending Donna away, though he of course doesn't say it like that. He can't say it like that, but Josh knows. Leo knows that Josh knows, and that has to be enough. Josh may be lonely, he may finally be figuring out what to call the bond between himself and his assistant, but he's too quick a political mind to allow his personal desires to undermine the administration. Leo hates himself for it, but he drops a hint about Shareef, just to underscore the point.

Josh's face is, for a moment, unreadable, and then he accepts it.

Josh's admiration is something Leo often feels he doesn't deserve, but no matter what he does, nothing seems to shake Josh's faith in him. He wonders sometimes if that's part of the reason he's able to keep going; a son's trust is not something to be trifled with.

And so Leo allows Josh to think he's staying on the phone for Leo's sake. He allows Josh to feel like he's keeping Leo company on a long, lonely night, while really, it's the other way around. Leo slips out to call Jordan, to tell her he'll see her tomorrow, Christmas Eve, and when he reaches the doorway of Josh's office, he hears Josh talking to Donna, making sure she arrived safely.

And he thinks, maybe, that after four years, some things are better after all.

***  
 _If your time to you is worth savin'_  
 _Then you better start swimmin'_  
 _Or you'll sink like a stone_  
 _For the times they are a-changin'_  
-Bob Dylan

THE END

01.06.03


End file.
